Break Reality
by hetawholockvengerstuck
Summary: In which the characters are human, and in a mental hospital. Arthur's friends think he's insane; Vash's severe separation anxiety and paranoia make him a threat to anyone who comes near; Yao is on the verge of death. A new doctor has brought it upon himself to cure all of these patients, but in this hospital, everyone has a secret. RoChu, AmeViet, Ukranada, PruHun, etc.
1. Chapter 1-Establishing Shot

**This is another fanfiction I just really wanted to do. It features an original character that is not me, a nurse working in the asylum. There are also other OC's, like the psychiatrists and the other nurses. None of the nurses or doctors are non-original characters AT THE MOMENT. This may be subject to change. There may or may not be character death. There may or may not be a spin-off. I may or may not ditch the asylum setting. Everything is up in the air now. **

**Arthur=England**

**Vash= Switzerland**

**Lili= Liechtenstein**

**The chapter was named in honour of Media Production and my sudden obsession with movie-making.**

**Chapter 1: Establishing Shot**

He sat on his cot, legs pulled up to his chin. He didn't want to be here, but he had no choice.

He _could_ see them. The fairies and trolls and other magical creatures that more ignorant humans could never see. He wasn't crazy; he was special.

He had tried to tell his friends. He had explained to his doctor. No one believed him.

His "friends" had arranged this. _It's for your own good, Arthur. You'll thank us someday. If you were to hurt yourself, we wouldn't be able to live with it._ Yet they had locked him up, against his will, in this loony bin.

His _real _friends, the ones nobody else believed in, would never have done this. But he hardly saw them anymore. They said the place was hard to enter, that it drove them away.

At first, the traitorous people who had put him here had visited. But he never talked to them. He had nothing to say to non-believers. So after a while, they stopped coming. He knew they still came, but only to ask the doctors about his condition.

He _wasn't_ crazy. He _did not_ have silly hallucinations.

He laughed inwardly, thinking of the hundreds who must claim that every year. He wondered how many were like him, perfectly sane, just misunderstood.

He had no cellmate. His psychiatrist had fretted about Arthur "contaminating' the other patients. It gave Arthur no satisfaction; a roommate might alleviate the monotony. Nothing ever happened. He met with his psychiatrist every day, but refused to speak. What was the point in defending himself against a man who was trying to cure him of a nonexistent illness?

His door opened. It was a glass door, fixed within a glass wall. It was bulletproof, supposedly for his safety, but he knew it was to make sure he didn't get out. He felt like he was on display: three yellow walls and a thick pane of glass separating him from the nurses and personnel who wandered the halls freely.

A young nurse in yellow entered, carrying a clipboard.

"Mr. Kirkland, the doctor will see you now."

Arthur sighed. He stood up and followed the nurse down the corridors, until they reached a wood-paneled door. The nurse knocked, and opened the door for Arthur. When he entered, she closed the door behind him.

The man seated behind the mahogany desk was not Arthur's psychiatrist. The photos on the wall were not the same drab college snapshots that Arthur had grown bored of looking at. The plaque on the desk no longer held the same name. Instead, the walls were lined with photos of the man behind the desk and two little children, or a woman about his age. And the plaque read "Dr. Noah Daniels".

The man looked to be in his twenties, with brown hair and glasses. He had a kind smile, but Arthur had seen kind smiles on people who thought he was loony. He wasn't going to trust this man yet.

"Arthur Kirkland." The man behind the desk gestured to the chair opposite him, indicating that Arthur should sit. This was new; usually, Arthur was told to lay on the couch that was currently in the corner of the room next to a potted palm.

Arthur moved to the chair and sat carefully, eyeing the new doctor. "Where is Dr. Williams?" he said.

The man said, "Dr. Williams began his retirement today. I've taken his place, and I must say, I'm very excited to work with you, Mr. Kirkland. I've heard so much about you from Dr. Williams, though most of it was about your condition, and none of it was very convincing." He held out his hand. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Noah Daniels. You can call me Noah, or Mr. Daniels, if you wish, or you can just call me Dr. Daniels.

Arthur hesitated, then shook the psychiatrists hand.

"Now, then." Dr. Daniels picked up a file and flipped through the enclosed pages. "According to Dr. Williams, you suffer from hallucinations and a firm belief in fairies. I personally see nothing wrong with believing in fairies—no one can decided what others believe in—but these hallucinations…what exactly do you see?"

Arthur said, "They aren't hallucinations! There really are fairies and elves! You just can't see them because you're "impure", but they exist, and I can see them!"

Dr. Daniels held up a hand. "Now, I never said they didn't." He picked up a piece of paper. "According to this, you were checked in by some friends? Yet you refused their company. And you have been uncooperative with your previous psychiatrist…though I'm not sure what he was trying to accomplish, if his notes are anything to judge by. He seems very critical of you. In fact, can I be honest with you?" Dr. Daniels put the paper down and took off his glasses. "Dr. Williams said he found you stubborn, childlike, and a public hazard. And, being equally honest and blunt, I disagree. For now. My opinion has yet to be formed."

Arthur snorted. "No one ever believes me. There is nothing to cure. I'm not bloody insane!"

"Yet you got in a fistfight with a man at a bar when he said fairies were the product of a moron's imagination." Seeing Arthur's look of surprise, Dr. Daniels held up another piece of paper. "No one can get checked in here unless they have done something to harm themselves or someone else. And we have the reason on file. This applies to everyone." The doctor chuckled. "How you got on the topic of fairies with a man at a bar, I can't even guess."

"This place is bloody insane, not me. No afternoon tea, no breaks from my cell, no contact with the outside world…"

"Ah, that's Dr. William's fault, I'm afraid," the doctor said. "He has to give clearance for a patient to wander outside, and he apparently didn't see fit to give you clearance on any extra privileges." Dr. Daniels put his glasses back on. "But I see no harm in clearing you for afternoon tea. The other privileges will have to wait, though. I need to assess you mental stability some more before I can clear you." He made some notes on a very official-looking sheet. "Now, tell me about these fairies. How long have you been seeing them?"

Arthur sighed. "As long as I can remember."

"I see; you must have had a hyper imagination."

"I beg to differ! I am a completely rational individual."

"Of course. And could you describe any fairies for me? In as much detail as possible, please."

And the questions went on like this for an hour. Dr. Daniels never scolded Arthur for obstinacy, or looked at him as if he were retarded; nor did he ever say anything that explicitly implied that he thought Arthur was lying. In fact, despite himself, Arthur was beginning to like this new psychiatrist.

By the end of the hour, Dr. Daniels was no longer calling Arthur "Mr. Kirkland". When the nurse came back to escort Arthur back to his cell, the doctor handed her a piece of paper. "I've cleared Arthur for afternoon tea. Please make sure it gets filed and added to his portfolio."

The nurse nodded, and Arthur went back to his cell feeling a little better than he had before.

Of course, the minute he was back in his cell, the feeling was gone. So what if he had tea? He was still in a mental hospital.

Actually, it wasn't only a mental hospital. It was only a wing of an extensive building that housed patients suffering from mental, physical, and emotional disorders and diseases, and it was well-equipped for even the rarest of cases. But being in the mental wing of the hospital made Arthur feel inferior.

He kicked the glass wall. It didn't shatter, of course. No matter how hard he kicked it, he could never escape this hell.

Alarms started blaring. Arthur smirked. One of the crazier patients was running rampant, apparently.

Vash's hands were bloody from pounding on the glass of his room. He ignored the pain, until finally he couldn't stand it. That was when he started using his shoulders to ram the wall. They weren't going to keep him here.

He heard the alarms, and they only made him increase the tempo of impact. He cursed when he saw the nurses running down the hall, some to fetch the security guards, some to try to calm him down.

One of the women was foolish enough to enter the room. She quickly locked the door behind her. She was his regular nurse, a blonde who was annoyingly optimistic. Vash hated everything about her.

"Vash, this is ridiculous, stop this! If you stop, I'll ask the doctor to—"

She was cut off by Vash, who grabbed her by the throat and flung her against the glass wall. She crumpled to the floor, an expression of shock frozen on her face. Vash didn't notice; he had resumed his escape attempt, pounding harder and harder.

When finally the security guards arrived, he was yelling at no one in particular, yet everyone: "Let me out! You can't do this to me! Let me out, you assholes!" Blood was smeared on the glass. Scared nurses were cowering far away from Vash's room, too terrified to even speak. Some of them had even fainted.

The guards burst into the room and grabbed Vash from behind. He struggled against them, trying with all his might to break the glass. When that didn't work, he tried clawing at their faces and punching, kicking, biting—anything that would make them let go and inflict pain.

Eventually, the guards had to resort to tranquilizing Vash. As he went under, he saw the concerned looks of the nurses as they entered to pick up their injured colleague.

_Serves her right, _Vash thought._ Stupid girl, thinking she can stop me with cheap language._

Then his vision blurred.

When Vash came to he was strapped to a hospital bed, no longer in the mental hospital. He was in medical care. He was slightly propped up on a pillow; only his arms and legs were strapped. He glanced at his hands and found they were wrapped in bandages, blood soaking through in some places. An uncomfortable stiffness in his right shoulder caused him to turn his head and examine the gauze that covered his right shoulder and went around his neck. Here, too, Vash could see blood.

A different nurse entered the hospital room where Vash was being held, carrying a clipboard (weren't they always?) and smiling sadly.

"Hello, Mr. Zwingli. Do you mind if I check your hands? It seems they need a new set of bandages."

She knelt down beside his bed and carefully began unwrapping his hands. She had dark-caramel-brown hair that reached to her jaw and wore the standard pale, light yellow of the hospital, with a light pink hat. She had a kind smile, Vash noticed.

With his hands unwrapped, Vash realized just how much damage had been done. His hands were cut everywhere, and looked awful, too awful to describe. The nurse put a few drops of ointment on each hand, then changed the bandages. When she was done, she patted him on the head. Vash growled.

"Don't baby me. That damn nurse I injured tried to, and I knocked her out."

The nurse looked shocked. "Vash, didn't you know?"

Vash glared at her. "No, know what? Did she win a prize or something?"

The nurse shook her head. "Vash, you didn't knock her out. She died about 30 seconds after you slammed her against the wall. Vash, you killed her."

And just like that, all feeling drained out of him. Vash could feel his lungs gasping for air as he began to hyperventilate. His eyes widened.

Killed? That couldn't be right. Vash hadn't meant to kill her. She had simply annoyed him; he had meant to knock her out.

She was dead? Was this new nurse telling the truth?

Unwanted tears began to spill, not for the nurse, but for someone else, someone dear to him: his sister, Lili.

What would Lili think? How could he explain that he had killed a nurse?

"Vash? Oh, no, doctor!" The new nurse was shouting. "Doctor, his heart is beating irregularly!"

Panic overtook him. _The doctor wasn't coming; he would let him die; and then he would let Lili die if she came here; and Lili would hate him so much…_

"Vash? Vash, can you hear me?"

"How is Mr. Zwingli?"

"His condition has stabilized, Dr. Daniels. It seems he had a heart problem we didn't know about. His sister assured me that his previous physician told her it isn't a problem, as long as he has his portable defibrillator. She dropped it by today."

"And no one else was hurt during his rampage?"

"No one other than the nurse."

"Thank you, Miss Osmond."

"Please, just call me Rosabella. Everyone does."

"Okay, then, Miss Rosabella. Keep an eye on Vash, will you? I haven't had a chance to speak to him yet."

"Yes, Dr. Daniels." The nurse with the light brown hair and kind smile gave a small bow and left the room. Dr. Daniels flipped a file open and consulted it.

"Vash Zwingli. Paranoid Personality Disorder and Separation Anxiety. Possible schizophrenia, hints of something more severe. Has a tendency towards violence. And now we have this heart problem. My, my, you are a hassle, aren't you?"


	2. Chapter 2-Adjustment Disorder

**Note: Because Ukraine was named by fans, she has two names: Katyusha and Yekatarina. I used Katyusha in Eternal Hope, so here I'm using Yekatarina. Also, technically Russia and his sisters have different last names (Belarus is Natalia Arlovsky), but that's confusing in Alternate Universe (AU), so here they will all be Braginski siblings.**

**Chapter 2: Adjustment Disorder**

On Saturday, patients were allowed to see visitors without the glass separating them. It was Vash's favorite day of the week—usually. But now, because of the death of the nurse, Vash was apprehensive. He wasn't sure what would be worse: Lili being scared or Lili being angry.

Then Dr. Daniels called him to his office.

Vash knew that visiting hours were from 10:00 am to 12:00pm, and the clock in the psychiatrist's office read 10:45. Lili always came around 10:50, and left at 11:45. But Dr. Daniels was in no hurry.

"Vash! Sit down, please." Vash did so. "It is nice to finally meet you in person. Dr. Williams had a lot to say about you."

"I'm sure he did," Vash said.

"However," Dr. Daniels said, "it seems Dr. Williams overlooked a certain aspect of your…condition. What with the recent events, I think it is safe to say that, on top of Paranoid Personality Disorder and Separation Anxiety, you have Adjustment Disorder."

Another one? Vash leaned back and closed his eyes, frowning. How many obstacles would he have to overcome to get out of this hellhole?

He glanced at the clock. 10:49.

"Now, Vash, I'm sure you didn't mean to kill that nurse. But the fact is, you did. And it is going to take a lot of work to keep you out of jail. You were, after all, fully aware of what you were doing, and you intended to harm her. Should it come to the point where you are tried in a court of law—"

"You want me to plead insanity?" Vash leaned forward angrily. "You think I'm insane! You know what's insane? Locking a man up for a little overprotectiveness, and leaving his young sister to fend for herself by doing people's laundry!"

"Vash, think about it. What if someone dear to you got hurt? What if Lili got in your way while you were on a rampage? You might not realize you were attacking her until it was too late. Vash, I know you don't care about yourself in this case; I know you have a kind heart. But the problem is, you aren't showing it. And you're a public menace. The police raided your house. Did you know? They found quite the arsenal."

"Those were for defense! They had no right to—"

"When a man shoots at a small child because he thinks the kid is a rapist entering the yard at night, the police have every right to check the house for weapons. Why would you need a semi-automatic rifle?"

"You never know," Vash said. "If the kid had been a rapist, I would have been a hero for killing him. I'm just trying to protect my sister."

Dr. Daniels looked at Vash sternly. "Then get better, Vash. Work with me. We need to get your name cleared of this stuff. That nurse knew the risks of entering a room under those circumstances; regular civilians may not."

The psychiatrist waved his hand. "You may go now. I know you're anxious to see your sister."

Vash glared at the clock. It now read 11:30.

"Shit!" He bolted out the door.

"You're late, big brother." Lili smiled sweetly at Vash, with a hint of concern in her eyes. Vash found himself unable to return her gaze.

"Hey, Lili. Sorry, I had to talk to the doctor." He shifted his bandaged arm a little. His hands were still wrapped in linen, but not as tightly; the bleeding had finally stopped, and his shoulder was almost healed.

"The doctors told me you had a rough time. Is everything okay, Big Brother?"

"Yeah…no…I'm fine, but…did they tell you about the nurse?"

Lili looked puzzled. "What nurse?"

"Well…" Vash told his sister the story, but the whole time he looked only at his hands. When he finally glanced up, his worst fears were confirmed: Lili was looking at him with a mixture of horror, terror, and sadness.

"Big Brother…? Did you really…?" She stood up abruptly, then hesitated. She looked embarrassed.

Vash nodded. "It's okay, Lili. You can leave if you want. I understand."

Lili still hesitated, torn between loyalty to her brother and the horrible feeling welling up inside her.

The feeling won out; she bolted from the room, provoking questioning stares from other visitors. Vash thought he saw tears in her eyes.

He buried his head in his hands. What the hell had he done?

Ivan Braginski wasn't bothered with the fact that he was locked up—to a degree. As long as it kept his crazy sister away from him, he was fine.

Natalia was here somewhere, he knew. They both suffered from bipolar disorder, and it had become dangerous for them to interact with normal people. Presumably (aka according to Dr. Williams), Ivan's other sister, Yekatarina, had been affected by the constant exposure to her bipolar siblings, leading to her mental breakdown and her stay at the same hospital.

So far, Ivan had had a room to himself. Some people might have been happy about this; Ivan, however, had always had trouble making friends, and he wished the doctors would give him the opportunity to try.

It was Saturday, but Ivan had no one to visit; he had no inclination to see Natalia, and the doctors had forbidden him from seeing his older sister. So, as always, Ivan sat in his room, not really doing anything. He wished there were some sunflowers in his room. That would make it a lot better.

He heard the door open and saw a pretty nurse enter. She smiled kindly.

"Hello, Ivan. I'm Rosabella. I'm the new nurse here. It's very nice to meet you." She held out her hand.

Ivan shook it. "Hello."

"So," Rosabella said, "how would you like a roommate?"

Ivan blinked. Where had this come from? He had never publicly expressed a wish for a roommate.

"Well, yes, but…why?"

"We have a patient in another hall who we think could use some company. And Dr. Williams left a note saying you've been having trouble sleeping. We've decided to try relocating you and see if you'll sleep better."

"What happened to Dr. Williams?" Ivan asked.

"Nothing bad. He just retired. I assume you haven't met Dr. Daniels?" When Ivan shook his head, Rosabella nodded. "You'll see him soon enough. I think you'll like him."

And just like that, Rosabella took her patient to his new room.

When he entered the room, the first thing Ivan saw was the small Chinese man sitting on the top of the tall wooden headboard. Not even on the mattress. His arms were folded over his knees, which were curled up slightly. Ivan couldn't imagine how the boy kept his balance.

His new roommate had his brown hair in a ponytail. Instead of the standard-issue hospital gowns that some patients wore, the man had been allowed to keep his own clothes, and today he had chosen to wear them. Russia felt a bit underdressed in his pink gown and scarf.

"Yao, this is Ivan, your new roommate." Rosabella waited for the man to respond, but he just kept staring at the wall across from him, which happened to be the wall Ivan's right.

She shrugged and backed out, closing the door behind her. Ivan heard the lock click; still, Yao did not show any sign that he had heard.

_Is he deaf?_ Ivan wondered. Perhaps he was catatonic, like Yekatarina. But just then, Yao turned his head and looked at Ivan.

"Hello," Ivan said. Yao did not respond, only nodded. Ivan noticed that Yao looked tired. There were bags under his eyes, and he seemed to be using as little energy as possible. Ivan also saw that there were quite a few paper plates left over from lunch, many more than were usually given to patients. And yet every scrap of food was gone; the plates were stacked neatly in the corner, waiting to be picked up by a nurse or janitor.

Ivan moved to what he assumed was his bed. It's headboard wasn't nearly as tall, and although the bed was a wooden one (unlike many at the hospital), it still wasn't as nice as Yao's. He must be a special case. To get there, Ivan had to pass Yao's bed, and Ivan could feel the shorter mans' eyes following him. He sat down on his mattress.

"So…how are you?" Ivan mentally slapped himself for his lame attempt at conversation. Yao must think he was a lunatic; no one in this facility was okay, except perhaps the employees; and even that was a matter of opinion. Who in their right mind wanted to work with people who most definitely weren't?

To his surprise, Yao answered. "A little hungry. But I'm always hungry, aru. What about you?"

Ivan said, "Well, it certainly has been different. Moving rooms suddenly and all. And the nurse that died the other day."

Yao nodded. "She used to be my nurse. I never liked her much. She had too much energy." He sighed. "Still, it is scary that a patient would kill someone like that, aru. It happened just a few rooms down. I could hear it."

Ivan had been on the other side of the wing, so he had only heard the rumours. He was about to ask for the details, but then he saw that Yao was exhausted. Something must really be wrong with him, if talking like that could take such a toll. Ivan wondered what Yao was in for, but felt it would be insensitive to ask.

Apparently, Yao didn't share the same sentiment. "Why are you here, aru?" he whispered.

"Bipolar disorder."

"No, I meant why did they move you?"

"Oh." Ivan shrugged. "Something about my sleep pattern and you needing company."

Yao's eyes flickered with some strange emotion; it was gone before Ivan could decipher its meaning.

Then another nurse came to get Ivan for his visit with the new psychiatrist.

"Hello, Ivan. I'm Dr. Daniels." Ivan shook the doctor's hand and sat down.

The doctor shuffled a few papers and started reading silently from a page. He glanced up every so often, but never for long.

When he finished, he said, "Dr. Williams' notes once again show his pessimistic tendencies. As usual, he is convinced that there is something else to your condition, but he has no idea what. And he warns that I should never let you near pipes or anything that could be used as a weapon." The psychiatrist chuckled. "Sometimes I don't know whether to follow the notes or to ignore them completely."

Ivan didn't see what was so funny.

"Well, Ivan, I'm going to have to ask you to redo some tests for me. Dr. Williams' notes on your test results are woefully incomplete. It will take quite a while, but there is nothing too hard. So if you'll just answer some questions…"

When Ivan finished the tests, the clock read 9:27pm, three minutes before lights out. Thus, by the time he was in his room, the lights were out in the cells.

Except for one.

When the light in his room stayed on, Ivan wondered if perhaps there had been an abnormal power outage. He sat up in his bed, staring at the lights, wondering when they would go out.

"If you want to turn off the light, go ahead." Yao pointed to a switch on the wall behind Ivan.

"You have a light switch?"

Yao nodded.

"Why? My previous room didn't have one."

"The hospital had one specially installed in my room. I usually keep the light on; one can only go so long sitting in the dark, aru, before one starts seeing strange shapes."

"But doesn't it make it hard to sleep?" Ivan asked, puzzled.

"It doesn't matter to me," Yao said sadly, shaking his head. "I never sleep anyway, no matter what I do. Even sleeping pills don't work."

Ivan blinked. That meant…

"You have insomnia, da?" he asked. When Yao looked at him strangely, he said, "Da means yes."

Yao nodded. "Yes. It's very severe; I haven't slept as long as I can remember."

"How long is that?"

Yao hesitated. Finally, he said, "Not very long, actually, but it feels like ages. I can't remember anything since about a month before I came here. I remember waking up in a bamboo forest, hungry and exhausted, even though it seemed like I had been sleeping. I wandered for a long time, and finally I came to a city. When the police realized how severe my insomnia was, they arranged for me to be sent here, aru."

"But…if that's true, how are you still alive? I mean, if you were hungry, and you had been out in the forest so long, and you weren't sleeping…and anyway, how do you still have any strength?"

"I do not know, aru. I eat lots of food, and I keep exercise to a minimum, but nothing seems to help. The doctors have tried everything from Chinese medicine to hypnosis."

Yao suddenly stared at Ivan. "But I've been wondering: why are you here? There are plenty of people who are bipolar outside of hospitals. Is it really that severe?"

Now Ivan hesitated. "I'm not sure. I never thought about it. Perhaps I'll ask Dr. Daniels about it."

"Who?"

"The psychiatrist. Have you not met him yet?"

Yao shook his head. "I rarely see psychiatrists. Mostly they just leave me here. I think they've just run out of options."

The two men were silent for what seemed like a long moment. Then Ivan turned the lights off and dug under the covers. Yao looked at Ivan's sleeping form for a while, somewhat jealous. He climbed off the bedpost and sat against his pillow, leaning his head back against the carved wood of the headboard. He closed his eyes, wishing for sleep to come, as he always did. But, as always, Yao spent the night wide awake.

**Yao=China**

**Ivan=Russia**

**Vash=Switzerland**

**Lili=Liechtenstein**

**Note: Dr. Williams is not Canada (Matthew Williams). He's an old man who really seems unfit to be a psychiatrist. And yes, Rosabella will keep appearing. She seems to be everywhere, doesn't she?**

**There will be some RoChu in this story. There may even be—wait for it—kissing. (le GASP!) As much as I can't stand watching people kiss, I'm generally okay with it in fanfictions. And don't worry, it won't be that graphic. And there will possibly be other pairings as well. You know me, I can't resist fluff.**


	3. Chapter 3-Ducks and Maple Cookies

**This story has become something of an obsession for me…this may begin to cross over from AU to sort-of AU. Hope that doesn't bother you, because you can't do anything about it.**

**Chapter 3: Ducks and Maple Cookies**

Most people tried to stay clear of the man everyone just called "the Cuban". No one knew his name; he had actually been sent from the Cuban government because of his severe Fregoli Delusion, meaning he believed someone was out to get him, and he saw that person in everyone. It had taken some time, but finally the doctors were able to cure him of it. Unfortunately, he seemed to have developed a delusion about another patient: Alfred Jones. He literally thought everyone was Alfred in disguise, and it sure didn't help that nine times out of ten, the Cuban beat up Alfred's brother, Matthew Williams.

No one knew why the brothers had different last names. One theory was that they were actually half-brothers; others were convinced they had divorced parents, and each child took a different parents name. Either way, it explained why Matthew had a Canadian accent, and why Alfred was distinctly American.

Matthew didn't really care what the theory was; most times he just wished he wasn't related to Alfred at all. And there was good reason. Alfred had a binge eating problem. The doctors constantly gave him less food than the other patients, to try and lower the caloric intake of Alfred Jones; somehow, he always managed to have a hamburger in his hand.

Alfred didn't actually know that the Cuban was out to get him. At the same time, he wasn't on particularly good terms with the Cuban, either. He simply spent most of his time thinking he was a superhero and/or stuffing his face with whatever junk food he could find or steal.

When Alfred was called in for an interview with his new psychiatrist, he thought nothing of it. He was actually hoping that this Dr. Daniels would have a dish of candy on his desk.

Alfred walked in the door and was immediately disappointed to see the office completely devoid of food. He sat down in the patient's chair and slouched, sulking slightly.

"Hello, Mr. Jones. It's nice to meet you," said the doctor.

"I'm hungry" was all Alfred said.

"Are you really?" Dr. Daniels asked. "Or are you thirsty? Sometimes people feel hungry when they are, in fact, thirsty. Why don't you have a glass of water?" The doctor left the room and returned with a couple of small paper Dixie cups filled with water from the filter outside his office. He handed both to Alfred before resuming his position behind his desk.

Alfred dutifully drank the water, mumbling, "I'm not thirsty." He felt somewhat better after the drink, but he still said, "I'm hungry."

Dr. Daniels frowned. "Would you like some more water?"

Alfred shook his head. "I'm not thirsty. I'm hungry."

"Perhaps you're sad? Mad? Stressed? Tired?"

"The only reason for any of those things is that I'm not getting enough to eat!"

"How much do you like celery?"

Alfred blinked. "What?"

"Celery. How much do you like it?"

"Uh…I dunno, not too much."

"Well, if what you said is true, and you're not getting enough to eat, I'll tell the nurses to give you a normal amount of food. However, it will consist mostly of celery, fruits, other veggies, rice, and other select foods."

"Wait, you're putting me on a diet? That's so uncool!" Alfred whined.

Dr. Daniels looked directly at Alfred in a way that made him feel uncomfortable. "Let's be frank here, Alfred. You're getting fat. You aren't there yet, but you're getting there. And what you've been eating is horrible for your health. Millions of Americans eat like this, except for one thing—you have possibly the most severe case of binge eating I have ever seen. You're always hungry, you eat nothing but junk food, drink nothing but soda, and you won't even touch the salad that the nurses have been giving you. That's good food, Alfred. And I know that you've been stealing from your brother Matthew."

Alfred grinned sheepishly. He had been sure that no one knew about that…

"Not a very heroic thing to do. I know you like to think that you're Superman, but no hero would ever steal food from his own siblings."

Now Alfred felt just plain horrible. Dr. Daniels was right, of course. He wasn't a hero when he stole food.

"And I also know that you've been having friends outside the hospital bring you soda and hamburgers. One of the nurses said you were talking to a man in a cloak you called "Tony". I would recommend you stop accepting food from him, or else we'll be forced to move you to a different cell AND ban this Tony from the premises. He's not doing you any favours by fueling your binge eating disorder."

Alfred scowled. Tony was a good friend. At least the doctor didn't know Tony was an alien; the cloak had served him well in disguising his true identity. And Alfred wasn't about to reveal this fact, lest he be marked as delusional and wind up in a cell with that nutjob Arthur Kirkland.

"You may go now, Alfred." Dr. Daniels waved a hand towards the door, indicating that the interview was over. Alfred left his seat and made to exit the room.

"Oh, one more thing, Alfred." Alfred turned around. Dr. Daniels was smiling at him. "I'm having a picnic lunch this Saturday. I'll be inviting most of the patients in this wing to the lunch. I would like you to join me. I'll be ordering all the lunches personally to make sure everyone has the right meal for their diet. I hope I'll see you there."

Alfred stared at his dinner. It was larger than it had been for a while, but it was made up of celery, an apple, a large cabbage-and-cilantro salad topped with carrots and toasted sesame seeds, and a ham Panini. No melted cheese, no salad dressing, nothing to drink other than water. It had to be the most depressing meal Alfred had ever seen, but it was food.

To his great surprise, the panini was actually pretty good, and Alfred found himself loath to ask for cheese on his next one. The cilantro tasted just right when combined with the cabbage, and the celery was refreshing, if not very filling. When only the apple was left, and Alfred found himself wishing for dessert, he bit into the apple, only to find it to be the sweetest apple he had ever tasted. And soon after finishing it, Alfred found that he didn't particularly want dessert, after all.

About half an hour after his meal, Dr. Daniels visited Alfred in his cell.

"What did you think of dinner?"

Alfred smiled. "It was good. Do ya think I could have more sandwiches next time?"

The comment made Dr. Daniels laugh for some reason. "No, I think one is enough for now. Would you like to know why I picked what I did?" Before Alfred could answer, Dr. Daniels went on to say, "Apples are proven to be a satisfying substitute for dessert. Celery has negative calories—it takes more energy to digest than it gives your body. The salad is a personal favorite of mine."

"It was good. But—"

"What's wrong, Alfred?"

Alfred hesitated. "Is my dinner always going to be so…green?"

Dr. Daniels smiled. "Don't worry, your diet isn't that restricting. Tomorrow I was thinking hummus and pita chips for lunch, and some salmon for dinner; it's good for the brain, you know."

Alfred's eyes widened. "Salmon? I love salmon!"

"I thought you would."

A nurse came for Ivan around 2:00pm. Yao was staring off into space, conserving energy, so Ivan simply nodded goodbye and followed the nurse. They wound through passageways until they reached a bright pink door. The nurse ushered him through and entered after, closing the door behind her.

Behind the door was a large blue-and-green-striped room. There were many occupants, and lots of stools, benches, and beds. Some occupants were male, others female.

None of them moved. These were the catatonic patients.

Ivan scanned the room, looking for one catatonic woman in particular. When he saw her, he began to wind his way around the other patients.

He stopped by a stool, on which was perched a short-haired woman with an unusually large chest. Her blue eyes were clouded and staring off into space. She obviously hadn't moved from this position since her arrival.

Yekatarina.

For the first time since he had been locked up, the doctors were letting him see his older sister.

Ivan glanced at the woman to the left of the patient—his right—a woman with long brown hair and green eyes. She had a small smile on her face, but she, too, wore a blank stare. Her arm was slightly extended. Ivan's gaze followed it until he saw that the woman's hand rested atop his sister's hand.

"I'm testing a theory of mine." Ivan whipped around. Dr. Daniels stood by him, having silently entered the room and come up behind him.

Dr. Daniels paced around the green-eyed woman until he was behind her. "I believe certain catatonic patients may be able to communicate emotions and thoughts to other patients through touch. I've seen some patients roused from this state by the touch of a friend, family member, or even a complete stranger who has experienced trauma. So far, though, my theory has turned out to be a bust."

He gestured to Yekatarina, who remained static. Ivan felt a tingle along the back of his neck. It occurred to him how creepy it was to be among all these motionless people, when he himself was moving freely, and Dr. Daniels was speaking as if all these people weren't even here…which, in a way, they weren't.

Ivan reached out a hand to rest against his sister's free one. She didn't respond in any way.

"Perhaps you should try other patients, da?" Ivan said. "The non-catatonic ones."

Dr. Daniels' brow furrowed in thought. "Perhaps…"

When Ivan had been escorted back to his room, Dr. Daniels began to pace up and down the catatonic room, effortlessly dodging stools and patients. His mind was not in the ward, but rather down a couple of halls, around five corners, and in a room marked on the map of the hospital simply as "The Facility." Although reluctant to utilize it, Daniels was beginning to wonder if that might be the only solution to his problem.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Daniels directed his attention to the problem at hand—namely, the dozens of catatonic patients. There were a few in particular that Daniels was anxious to talk to, but like every patient in this ward, they showed no signs of moving. It was a wonder that they were even able to eat; they were almost statues.

Daniels had been surprised when Ivan had, seemingly on a whim, devised a plan that might actually work. To be precise, Daniels was surprised he hadn't thought of it himself. Of course, the entire experiment would depend on his theory being correct…

In a room full of seats, there was not a single empty one. Daniels leaned against the wall and began to list off possible patients to help in the ward. To his dismay, the list was short, only three that seemed the most likely to respond. Perhaps that would be enough to prove his theory, and to further his investigation.

The lights went out in the hallway and adjacent rooms. As usual, the lights stayed on in the cell shared by Yao and Ivan, and remained that way for a while. When Ivan finally turned out the lights, he was still far from sleep.

Although he knew Yao would rather save energy, Ivan really needed to talk about his sister. It was a leap of faith; to explain about Yekatarina, Ivan would have to reveal his own hand in causing his sister so much trauma.

"Yao?"

"Mm?"

"Um…why do you say 'aru'?"

Ivan mentally slapped himself. Not only was that insensitive, it was not what he had meant to say at all.

"Dunno, aru."

"Um…can I tell you something?"

"Mm."

"Do you think that catatonic patients could be roused by touch?"

Silence. Perhaps Yao thought it was a stupid question. But then he answered, "Possibly."

Ivan fidgeted. He really wanted to talk about his sister, but he couldn't think of how to break into the topic.

"Why do you ask, aru?"

_Thank you. _"My sister is catatonic. They let me see her for the first time today. Dr. Daniels said something that made me think…well, it might be possible, right?"

"Perhaps, aru. But the patients are fine, no? So why should they want to leave their catatonic state?"

The question stumped Ivan. Yao had a point; what with all the problems of the real world, perhaps the patients were better off. It was for selfish reasons that the waking wanted to see their loved ones back in their homes. Certainly, Yao must wish he could trade places with one of them.

"Do you wish to talk about it, aru?"

Ivan nodded, forgetting that Yao couldn't see him. He closed his eyes to make it easier to say the words. "My sister raised me and Natalia—my younger sister—by herself. Growing up, I was bullied a lot, and Natalia was always clinging to me—she was bipolar from the start—and eventually I just snapped. Kids were scared of me, teachers wouldn't cross me. At home I was just as bad. Both Natalia and myself took out our frustrations on Yekatarina. We didn't mean to. But I got violent at the slightest implication, and Natalia was…scary when it came to me. If Yekatarina tried to stand up for me, Natalia would throw knives at her. If she didn't stand up for me, I would threaten her with pipes. I didn't want to cause her harm, but I was too wrapped up in my own emotions.

"We were always poor. Yekatarina provided for us before herself. She never deserved it. She was the only sane one in the family, but in the end it was too much for her. She broke down. She started shaking uncontrollably, and babbling, and screaming when we got near her. Some neighbors called the police and had us arrested. Yekatarina was taken to the hospital right away. Dr. Williams said they had to strap her down, and finally she just lapsed into her present state."

Ivan curled onto his side, facing the blank wall. "It's horrible, da? Now you know why I want Dr. Daniels' idea to work."

Again there was silence. Ivan began to drift off to sleep.

"Maybe she just needs time, aru."

Ivan heard the words as if they were coming from the end of a tunnel. Sleep overtook him, and he left his roommate in the dark.

Tuesdays were free days in the mental hospital; each patient could choose from a list of activities. Things like cooking, knitting, and woodworking were specifically restricted to some of the saner patients, but sports and other activities were generally open to anyone. Very few patients chose not to partake in the activities.

Matthew Williams drifted between activities each week, sometimes even switching activities during the day. Although this was theoretically forbidden, it wasn't strictly enforced; certainly, no one noticed the shy Canadian and his stuffed polar bear.

Today, Matthew had decided to try cooking. It didn't matter that he didn't have clearance; no one noticed him. He could just work at an open kitchen unit and mind his own business.

Or so he thought.

"Hey! Jones!"

Turning around, Matthew was dismayed to see the Cuban bearing down on him. He hugged his polar bear to his chest and tried to be invisible. Unfortunately, this was not one of those times.

"I-I'm not…"

"You're gonna wish you had never been born when I'm through with you!" The Cuban pounded a fist into his palm. Matthew already wished he'd never been born—or better yet, Alfred. Why was it that his brother could cause trouble for him when he wasn't even in the room?

"Hey, Cuban dude, whatcha doin'?"

_Speak of the devil,_ Matthew thought as his brother came bouncing up behind the Cuban. The Cuban narrowed his eyes at Alfred, then looked back at Matthew, thrown off by the sudden appearance of the real Alfred Jones. Reaching a decision, he turned around to punch Alfred in the stomach. Alfred, however, was already out of reach, bouncing around the rec room, looking for something to do. _He probably forgot to sign up for something again_, Matthew thought. He had mixed feelings. Part of him hated his brother for being careless and causing trouble for everyone; the other part was relieved that Alfred had appeared right when he needed him. Matthew was safe from the Cuban—for now.

Sighing, Matthew Williams—in no way related to the mean psychiatrist Dr. Williams—resumed his quest for an open stovetop. Many people bumped into him; it was part of his condition.

He first noticed it when he turned seven. His mother forgot to wake him up for his birthday party. When he finally woke up and asked them why, she said that she hadn't seen him in bed, and assumed he was out playing with friends. Ever since, he had grown steadily more invisible as he grew older, until now, at 18, he spent a majority of his time forgotten, except for maybe a few hours a week. It wasn't like the nurses forgot his meals; it was more along the lines of, Matthew doesn't seem to be here right now, so I'll just leave this here and hopefully he'll find his way back. It didn't matter that he could be right behind them. Even when they bumped into him, it was rare that they noticed he was there.

And Alfred had grown more and more visible, if only because he was so rambunctious. Although he had no envy of his older brother's condition and attitude, Matthew had to admit that he was jealous of the amount of attention Alfred received. Sometimes it felt like Alfred absorbed all of Matthew's attention and directed it at himself.

Matthew shook himself and cracked an egg into a bowl of flour and butter. Having found an open countertop, away from potential obstacles, he was busying himself with making cookies, though what kind he wasn't sure. On a whim, he grabbed a bottle of maple syrup sitting on the counter and poured a good amount in. Maple syrup always made him feel better.

As he was spooning dollops of batter onto a cookie sheet, he was jostled from behind by an inmate going about his business. The dollop of batter fell haphazardly and splatted into one of the perfect cookies. With a sigh, Matthew attempted to scoop the batter back into shape.

"Pardon moi, mon cher. I did not see you there." A refined hand rested on Matthew's shoulder. He squeaked in surprise and whipped around. Embarrassed by his behavior, he grabbed his polar bear from the counter and hugged it to his face while he took in the appearance of the person who had bumped him.

The man seemed to be in his early twenties, with long blond hair and a slight beard. He wore a French chef's uniform—could it be called a uniform?—and smelled like cologne.

"If you wouldn't mind, mon ami, could I use this counter next to you? It would appear they are letting that _idiote_ Arthur Kirkland use a stove, and his cooking always turns out horrible." The Frenchman scoffed and began to set his things down without waiting for an answer.

"What are you making, mon ami?" He said. "It does not look like lemon meringue."

Matthew glanced at the man's bowl. Its contents definitely did not include maple syrup.

"Is that what everyone is making today?"

The man nodded. "Oui. But you do not even have the ingredients! What madness is this?"

Matthew resumed his task. "Oh, the instructor never notices me. I just sort of do whatever I want."

The man raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Well, mon ami, we will have to see how this 'whatever' tastes. Who are you, by the way? I have not seen you around before."

"That's to be expected. No one ever seems to notice me. It's why I'm here." Matthew had filled a cookie sheet with batter; he set it aside and began to fill a second one. "I'm virtually invisible 90% of the time. It was too hard for me to function out in the real world—people kept narrowly missing me whenever I crossed the street, or cutting in front of me in line. I actually ended up here because of a hit-and-run. It took hours for the doctors to remember I was there. Luckily, it was just a few broken bones."

"Mon dieu! That is horrible! But," the Frenchman said, pointing his mixing spoon at Matthew, "you still have not answered my question."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Matthew. And you are?"

The man beamed. "I am Francis Bonnefoy, chef, artist, and lover. And I am here because of a most noble and rare condition." With a flourish of his spoon (which sent meringue flying across the room), he said, "Anatidaephobia!"

Matthew blinked. "What was that?"

"It is, mon ami, the fear that somewhere a duck is watching you."

"I thought that was a fictional phobia."

"Non! It is quite real, mon ami! And when I catch that duck and cook him into a magnificent meal, my fear will finally be erased! Magnifique!"

_Of course. The one person in this entire cooking class who notices me, and he's a complete nutjob_.

Having used up the batter, Matthew popped the trays into the oven and began mixing a filling for the cookies. Maple syrup was used liberally.

As the cookies were finishing, an explosion was heard across the room. Francis sighed. "Now you see why I moved."

Matthew couldn't blame him. Arthur Kirkland was covered in black, with smoke still curling up from the mixing bowl. How the man had managed to make meringue explode, Matthew couldn't venture a guess.

The timer for his cookies dinged, and Matthew pulled the trays out. He grabbed a butter knife and began spreading a good amount of maple syrup cream onto each cookie, then laying a second cookie on top, effectively creating a double layer. When he was done, he bit into one and smiled blissfully.

"May I try one, mon ami?" Francis' hand was hovering over the cookie sheet. Matthew nodded.

Francis took a bite. His eyes widened in surprise. "C'est merveilleux! I never thought maple syrup could taste so délicieux when made into a cookie!"

Matthew blushed and ducked his head. "Thank you."

"I hope you don't mind me saying this, but it is good that I bumped into you, no? Or I would never have eaten such amazing cookie!"

Matthew didn't mind. Francis may be a bit crazy, but he was Matthew's first friend at the mental hospital. Squeezing his polar bear, Matthew took another cookie. He hadn't had a chance to share his cookies like this since before his seventh birthday.

**Note: This is not a Franada fic. I just thought it would be nice to have someone notice Canada. And anatidaephobia is not a real phobia. It is a made up fear devised by Gary Larson (the inventor of another phobia, Luposlipaphobia, which is the fear of being chased by timber wolves around a kitchen table while wearing socks on a newly waxed floor).**

**Matthew=Canada**

**Francis=France**

**Arthur=England**

**Alfred=America**

**The Cuban=Cuba (apparently, he doesn't have a human name.)**

**Ivan=Russia**

**Natalia=Belarus**

**Yekatarina=Ukraine**

**Yao=China**

**And here I was planning to implement the RoChu and America/Vietnam… Why must my stories get away from me?**


	4. Chapter 4-Awkward First Meetings

**So this chapter is where things get…awkward. Don't like pregnancy? Don't read. Actually, do read, and be glad it's not M-preg. That would just be weird. And yes, tokophobia is a real thing, unlike anatidaephobia.**

**Chapter 4-Awkward First Meetings**

_Wednesday_

Feliks was awoke to the sound of screaming. Covering his ears, he flipped onto his side and waited for the lights to come on as the nurses realized what was happening.

Right on cue. The lights went up, revealing the rigid form of Feliks' roommate, Toris Laurintis, screaming his head off and clawing at the sheets.

Squinting as his eyes adjusted, Feliks swung himself out of bed and slapped Toris across the face, jolting him out of his unrestful slumber. Toris slumped back in bed, panting and sweating.

"Like, thanks a lot! God! I was trying to sleep, Toris!" Feliks rested a hand on his hip and cocked an eyebrow. "What the heck was that?"

Toris looked at Feliks with haunted eyes. Feliks' expression changed from irritated to concerned. His hand slid off his hip.

"You had another nightmare?"

Toris nodded.

"I thought that was like, getting better!"

"I guess not," Toris said. He hunched up into a ball and hugged his knees to his chest. When Feliks sat on the bed, he buried his face.

"Was it the same one?" Feliks asked.

"No," came the muffled response. "This one was worse. Thanks for waking me up."

Feliks sighed. What was taking the nurses so long? Toris needed a psychiatrist now, or he was going to fixate on this dream.

"So, like, did you hear about the totally awesome new fashion magazines the hospital got? I'm totally going to have to read those!"

Toris glanced up. "Feliks, those are a week old. If you would just go out during free time, you wouldn't have to wait to hear the news second-hand. And I was the one who told you about them."

"Oh, yeah, I like totally forgot. But I am _so_ not going out there! There are people out there!"

"Feliks, I'm a person."

"Yeah, but not really."

"Thanks," Toris mumbled.

"Like, you're different. You aren't scary."

The door opened. A couple of nurses came in, accompanied by a psychiatrist. Feliks had never seen this doctor before. Abandoning his position on Toris' bed, he fled to the farthest corner of the room and cowered there.

One of the nurses started rubbing Toris' back to calm him down—he was still sweating profusely—but the doctor was intrigued by Feliks' behavior.

"Who's that?" he asked the second nurse.

"That's Feliks Łukasiewicz, Toris' roommate."

The doctor nodded. "Ah, the sociophobe."

He turned his attention away from Feliks and began to speak soothingly to Toris. It took the three professionals an hour to fully calm Toris down.

As the nurses left, the psychiatrist remained sitting in a chair he had pulled up from a corner of the room. He pivoted to face Feliks.

"I know this is uncomfortable for you, Feliks, and I'm sorry. But I have to say, you did a good job keeping him calm." The man gestured at Toris, who was fast asleep again. "It's remarkable how much you were able to accomplish in such a short time."

Feliks did not speak.

The man sighed. "I'll leave now, if that makes you feel better. Good night, Feliks."

With that, the doctor swept out of the room and closed the door. The lights went out, and Feliks was left in the dark. He stood up and moved towards the bed, only to bump into something and fall face first onto his mattress. The doctor had forgotten to replace the chair.

"Like, ow!"

Alfred's breakfast had been good. Nothing remarkable. In fact, it was probably one of the lamer meals he had received since his meeting with Dr. Daniels. Still, at least it wasn't raisin bran.

It struck Alfred as odd that on the day he was given a lame breakfast, Dr. Daniels came in asking for a favor.

"It's about one of our female patients. This may be a long shot, but…" he shook his head. "Would you come with me, Alfred?"

Alfred shrugged in assent and followed Dr. Daniels. As they walked, Dr. Daniels filled Alfred in on the situation.

"She suffers from tokophobia—"

"She's afraid of talking?"

"No, Alfred. Not talkophobia, TOkophobia. It's an intense fear of being pregnant or giving birth. Unfortunately, she's pregnant, and as you can imagine it's not good for her health OR the baby."

Alfred frowned. "If she's so afraid of being pregnant, how did some guy get her that way?"

"It's possible it wasn't a preexisting condition, or that she didn't realize she had it until it was too late. Either way, it requires Nurse Rosabella to remain by her side quite frequently, but what with all the extra patients Rosabella has taken on lately, we're going to have to change that."

"And you think I'm going to be able to help? Why me?"

Dr. Daniels was quiet for a long time. Alfred began to feel apprehensive.

"Suffice to say, I have a good feeling about this. I would say 'Trust me, I'm a doctor', but I doubt that would do anything to put you at ease."

They stopped outside a wooden door. Dr. Daniels knocked and entered the room, motioning for Alfred to follow. Glancing about, Alfred noticed that there were more differences between his room and this one than just the door and lack of glass paneling; the walls were covered in a bamboo-like mat, and those were covered with an Asian-style wallpaper, like one big painting turned into a full-scale decoration. The floor was covered in reed mats, and there were large cushions on the floor.

"How's Lien?" the doctor asked. Alfred peeked over his shoulder at the small Asian woman curled up against Rosabella, eyes closed. The nurse was petting her hair as if she was a cat, but it seemed to relax the woman. She was noticeably pregnant, perhaps 6 months in. When the woman opened her eyes and stared at him, Alfred felt inexplicably nervous.

"She's doing much better," Rosabella said. She tried to stand up, but Lien grabbed her uniform and tugged hard, whimpering. Rosabella sat down again.

The doctor approached Lien and laid a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes darted around the room, settling on Dr. Daniels.

"Lien, I'd like you to meet Alfred." He gestured to Alfred to come closer. Alfred closed the door and slowly inched his way over, slightly embarrassed at seeing a woman so helpless. He got the impression that Lien was usually a strong woman.

Lien's gaze fixed on him. Her expression was unreadable. It was slightly unnerving.

"Alfred is going to be helping us take care of you. If Rosabella or your nurses are busy, Alfred will sit with you. Is that okay?"

Lien's eyes widened. She shook her head vehemently. Alfred felt a little hurt.

"Lien," Dr. Daniels said.

"Fat."

Alfred colored slightly. Lien has called him fat; if there was anything he didn't want to hear from a girl, it was a remark about his weight. It wasn't that bad, even if he wasn't exactly a supermodel.

"Lien!" Rosabella exclaimed. "That was uncalled for!"

"I'm fat!" Lien cried. "I'm deformed! He's a boy!"

"I'm a boy, too," Dr. Daniels huffed. "Lien, he's not going to hurt you." The psychiatrist shot Alfred a glance, as if to say, _Help me out here!_

"You're not deformed," Alfred mumbled. Lien ignored him. She was scratching at her face, nails digging into her skin until she bled, leaving claw marks. Rosabella grasped at Lien's hands in vain; Dr. Daniels backed up, unsure whether he should try to stop Lien or let the trained nurse deal with it.

"Please be reasonable, Lien!" Rosabella cried. To Alfred, she said, "Help me calm her down!"

With no other plan, Alfred ran around and grabbed Lien's arms from behind, yanking them back until she could no longer reach her face. She gave an initial squeak of pain, but she stopped struggling for fear of breaking her arms. In fact, she held unnaturally still.

Rosabella brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and examined a scratch left over from the brief scuffle. "Thank you, Alfred."

Alfred merely nodded. He hoped it would be safe to let go soon.

Dr. Daniels leaned down to Lien's eye level. "You have to stop doing this, Lien. You're only hurting yourself. You're going to be okay if you just calm down." He straightened up. "Rosabella, would you get a doctor from the medical wing to examine her wounds? I have some other matters to attend to."

"Of course, sir." Rosabella left the room.

"What about me, Dr. Daniels?" Alfred asked. He began to relax his grip on the small woman in front of him, only for her to jerk her hands up to her face. He yanked again.

"I think it would be best if you stayed here, Alfred. Rosabella won't be gone long. Just make sure that Lien doesn't hurt herself." With that, the doctor swept out of the room.

The door shut with an audible click. An awkward silence followed.

Alfred was at a loss for words. Here he was, alone with a cute, pregnant girl, pinning her arms behind her back. He didn't feel very heroic at all.

"So…do you like hamburgers?" Alfred asked.

No reply. Lien squirmed a bit but said nothing.

"Okay…you got any siblings?"

A sob emerged from the woman, so faint it might have been a cough. Surprised, Alfred leaned down slightly until he was peeking around at Lien's face. It was drenched in tears; her yellow patients' smock was soaking wet. Misinterpreting the tears for tears of pain, Alfred hastily let go of her arms and scooted around to face her directly.

It was a mistake. Lien immediately began to claw at her face again. This time, Alfred lunged for her and grabbed her wrists, easily overpowering the smaller girl and holding her hands out to the sides, down by her waist. She struggled for a bit, trying to bite him, but he kept out of reach.

"Let me go!" She spit at him.

"What are you trying to do?" Alfred yelled. "Hurting yourself isn't going to make you any less pregnant! You just have to deal with it and get it over with!"

"Like you would know!" Lien spat. "You're a boy; you don't know anything about pregnancy!"

"Maybe you're right, but I know that mothers are supposed to love their child! You have a life in you! Doesn't that mean anything?"

Lien was shaking. The tears came more thickly. "Of course it means something! It means I have some alien being in my body, taking nourishment from me, changing my body! It's not even human! It's some abomination!"

Alfred was shocked. He had never heard anyone talk about a baby like that. "But everyone starts out like that. Even you!"

Lien shook her head. "That was my mother's decision, but I don't want to have something like this growing inside me!"

"Then why didn't you abort it in the early stages?"

"It's not that easy! My family doesn't believe in abortion. I would have aborted if I could, but my mother wouldn't let me! She would have disowned me!"

Struck by the realization that Lien's life situation was much more complex than he had first thought, Alfred could think of nothing more to say. He just sat there, gripping her wrists, afraid to let go lest she harm herself, but keenly aware that she must see his actions as assault.

Finally, the silence was impossible to bear. Alfred said, "What exactly is it that you're afraid of? Are you afraid you're going to die?"

Lien shook her head, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "So many things…death, the pain, the blood…and the baby…I don't want the baby…I don't want to see the little demon that disfigures my body…I can feel it moving sometimes, and it scares me to no end—AAAAAIIIIEE!" She jumped. "It moved!" She began to thrash around, panicking, screaming. Afraid that she would break her wrists, Alfred let go. She grabbed her hair and began to pull, shaking, terrified.

They were too close to the bed; if she threw herself back, Lien would bash her head against the wooden frame. Lacking a better solution, Alfred pulled her to him and hugged her, rocking back and forth, saying soothing words in a desperate attempt to stop Lien. Unable to move her arms, Lien resorted to kicking her legs, which were curled behind her. Gradually, though, she began to stop thrashing, instead spasming with post-sob hiccups. She grabbed fistfuls of Alfred's shirt; in some places her nails dug into his chest, but he ignored it. Her cheeks were bleeding freely, staining his pajama-like clothing, mixing with the tears that poured slowly from her bloodshot eyes.

A single light snore drifted into Alfred's ears. Lien had fallen asleep. Alfred eased his grip on her, and she slumped against him a little; her hands had released his shirt, leaving creases and flecks of blood; whether the blood belonged to Lien or himself, Alfred wasn't sure.

The light sound of a doorknob turning alerted him to the presence of Rosabella and the doctor. He heard a gasp from the nurse; she must have seen the fresh gashes on Lien's face. The doctor came into view and she gently pried Lien away from Alfred, freeing him to leave the room. On his way out, Rosabella put out a hand and gently stopped him.

"Mr. Jones, may I speak with you for a moment?"

Alfred nodded. Rosabella led him out into the hall, closed the door firmly behind them, and spun around.

"Alfred, for your sake and Lien's I have to ask you what happened. You have blood on your shirt and hands, and Lien is in worse shape than when I left, although I will be the first to admit that she seemed much calmer."

Alfred explained what had transpired—but for some reason, he found himself keeping a few details to himself. He didn't tell Rosabella about Lien's family forbidding an abortion, or Lien's description of the baby. If Lien wanted Rosabella to know the details, she would tell her, if she hadn't already.

Rosabella showed no sign of suspecting Alfred of keeping details from her. After hearing his story, a relaxed smile appeared on her face. "Thank you, Alfred. If what you say is true—and I have no reason to doubt that it is—then you are a true hero."

As the doctor emerged from Lien's room, Rosabella winked. "If Lien ever needs someone to watch her, I'll make sure to get you!"

The doctor cleared her throat. "I've cleaned and bandaged the wounds where appropriate. She'll need to be careful or she risks the chance of infection. I'll send a nurse down with some ointment; have the patient apply it every morning. Also, I would recommend that she avoid sleeping on her side as much as possible, to avoid extra pain."

Rosabella frowned at the doctor. "She's pregnant, Molly! You should know how uncomfortable it is for a pregnant woman to sleep on her back! You have two children at home!"

The doctor smiled sheepishly. "Right as usual, Rose. We're lucky to have you here." The doctor waved and took off down the corridor.

"I thought you were a new nurse?" Alfred inquired.

Rosabella laughed. "Oh, I know Molly from school. We used to compete for top of the class. She nearly always beat me."

A series of beeps emanated from a pocket in the nurse's uniform. Rosabella pulled out a pager and read the message.

"It would appear I'm needed elsewhere, Alfred. I'll drop you off and be on my way, okay?"

"Hey, you!"

Matthew froze. He was wandering the halls at random, his door having been left open by a nurse who obviously thought he was somewhere else. He knew he wasn't supposed to be out, but he saw no harm in stretching his legs. It wasn't like he was a danger to anyone.

Expecting a guard, Matthew turned around. What he saw was a hundred times worse: the Cuban was bearing down on him. Matthew whimpered. He had no idea what the Cuban was doing out, but it couldn't be good.

Frozen in terror, Matthew had no choice but to wait for the Cuban to reach him. The man was holding a hand behind his back, no doubt concealing a weapon or a balled-up fist. As the arm began to move, Matthew squeezed his eyes shut and braced for impact.

Nothing came. Matthew hesitantly opened one eye, afraid that it might provoke the Cuban. Instead, he found a carton of strawberry ice cream inches away from his nose.

"I wanted to say sorry for almost beating you up yesterday. I thought you were Jones, since you look a lot like him." The Cuban gestured got Matthew to take the ice cream.

Stunned, Matthew did so. He loved ice cream, although there was no way for the Cuban to know that. He smiled. "Thank you, um…"

"Manuel," the Cuban said.

"Thank you, Mr. Manuel."

The Cuban nodded and walked off in the opposite direction. As he rounded the corner, a male nurse rushed past Matthew. _He's probably looking for the Cu—Manuel,_ thought Matthew. Pacing back to his room, the shy young teen opened the ice cream container. It was one of those cartons that came with a plastic spoon attached to the inside of the lid.

_Maybe he's not so bad after all,_ Matthew thought as he swallowed some of the frozen treat.

Not counting Alfred, two people had noticed him in two days. For a nearly invisible boy, it was like having the whole world know his name.

**Blood and tears…so easy to write. And a fanmade name has been chose for Cuba! (applause) This chapter seems really short to me…maybe because it only took two days to write. And still I haven't added the RoChu! I promise it's coming soon, I just need to get past other obligatory plot bunnies…I swear, plot bunnies reproduce like real rabbits.**

**Matthew=Canada**

**Alfred=America**

**Manuel=Cuba (self-chosen name)**

**Lien=Vietnam (also a self-chosen name)**

**Feliks=Poland**

**Toris=Lithuania**

**This won't turn into a PolLiet fic. They're just friends. Poland is socially awkward in Hetalia, anyway, but he's used to Lithuania, so in this fic Lithuania is one of the few who Poland doesn't mind interacting with.**


	5. Chapter 5-Hypersomnia

**Took a break from non-stop writing to read LietBel fics and now I want to incorporate it in here…but at the moment I can't see that happening. Woe is me! **

**It's been awhile since we've seen Vash. I wonder what I'll do with him…and Lili. All these characters and I have only a vague idea of where this train is going, and at what speed. With luck, we won't crash into the tunnel of death.**

**Chapter 5-Hypersomnia**

_Thursday_

Lien huddled in a corner of her room, hugging her knees the best she could, trying to control her breathing. She didn't want to see any doctors.

She was beginning to regret telling Alfred everything. She didn't want Rosabella knowing about her family; nor did she want the nurses to know that the baby, to her, was nothing more than a parasite to be eradicated. It was bad enough when they thought she was afraid of the pain, with all their fussing and soothing words.

Tears slid down her face. Lien would be the first to admit that she was in no way looking forward to the pain, but the more pressing matter was the fact that, even after labor, the baby would still be leeching off her. She was disgusted by the idea of a baby; she had never thought they were cute.

When she was younger, Lien had often gotten in trouble for throwing things at other children, even babies. She never cared about the punishment, only caring that the ugly creatures she was targeting would never come near her again. When she got older, and sex ed began, Lien was horrified at how easy it was to become pregnant. She had vowed it would never happen to her.

And then it did.

She had thought she loved the boy. But it had all crumbled for them when she found out she was pregnant. She had denied it for as long as possible. When she told him, in tears, the magic dispersed.

**~Elsewhere~**

"What on earth are we going to do about this boy?"

The nurses contemplated the sight before them: a scruffy-haired boy, asleep on the floor in the middle of the day.

"I could have sworn he was awake when I last checked on him," the tall nurse said.

The fat nurse shook her head. "You have to watch him every minute of the day." She smiled wryly. "At least it was only the floor. In one day I've found him asleep on stovetops, blocking the stairs, half-inside the electrical closet…"

The tall nurse shrugged. "I guess it's to be expected. However, I'm not ashamed to admit that until yesterday I didn't even know what hypersomnia was."

"I'd heard of it, but there was never any real reason to study it." The fat nurse patted her colleague on the shoulder. "Well, it's your turn to take care of him, Morgan. I'm officially on break as of now."

The tall nurse watched her companion leave. She blew an errant strand of brownish-gray hair out of her eyes and, turning to face her charge, put her hands on her hips.

"Hypersomnia…I have half a mind to declare you lazy and throw you out on the street. You've been nothing but trouble for me since you got here."

Up until that point, Nurse Morgan had been in charge of assisting various other nurses, even though Morgan herself was a senior nurse. But on Wednesday, everything had changed. A sleeping man had been dumped on the hospital steps, and was only noticed when a delivery man stepped on him. After a quick diagnosis, one of the doctors had declared the boy's condition to be 'hypersomnia', which, as far as Morgan understood, meant the boy was going to sleep his life away.

Wednesday had seen Morgan struggling to wake the sleeping patient, struggling to feed him, struggling to keep him from wandering the halls—and above all, struggling to remain patient. At times the boy had tried to talk to her, but always he spoke in nonsense, or perhaps it was Greek.

And now Morgan had to get her new patient ready for an interview with Dr. Daniels. This was going to be fun.

**~Elsewhere~**

Every night, the two roommates talked for a bit, and then Ivan would go to sleep. Ivan learned that Yao was actually from China, and not Chinese-American, as he had originally thought. He learned that Yao loved to drink tea, and never wasted any food. Ivan even started giving his leftovers to Yao; he always ate them, even the parts Ivan had nibbled on. But Ivan was always worried about Yao, perhaps more than was to be expected. He wanted to help his new friend, but if a doctor couldn't do it, why should a bipolar Russian be able to?

Ivan kept forgetting to ask Dr. Daniels why his bipolar disorder was keeping him in the hospital. If Ivan hadn't known better, it would have seemed as if Dr. Daniels was intentionally keeping him busy to avoid the question. But that was ridiculous; how could the doctor know what Ivan wanted to ask?

Then, on Friday, everything changed.

That day, Yao was especially chatty. He got up and did some tai chi. Even the doctors agreed that Yao seemed to be feeling better. Dr. Daniels invited both Ivan and Yao to his picnic lunch, anticipating another great day of recovery for Yao.

When lights out came around, Yao felt sleepy, but he lay in bed, unable to sleep. He tossed and turned, feeling abnormally cold. Finally, he hopped out of bed.

Ivan heard Yao whispering, "Um…Ivan, can I…sleep with you tonight? I'm freezing…" Yao's blush was so obvious in his words that Ivan chuckled to himself. He rolled over to face his roommate.

"Da, you can."

Yao climbed under the covers and nestled against Ivan's chest. Ivan realized just how small Yao really was. For a moment, he was afraid that he would break the smaller man's bones if he rolled over in the night. That fear soon gave way to concern; Yao really was freezing.

Ivan couldn't sleep for quite awhile. Then he heard faint snores, and even breathing—

Yao was asleep.

Ivan felt his heart leap with joy for his friend. He had a sudden urge to call a doctor, but he didn't want to disturb his friend. Today was a good day for Yao. Ivan draped his arm over the sleeping form, and soon he, too, was fast asleep.

**~Later~**

Ivan was woken by a violent shudder. For a minute, he was disoriented. Was there an earthquake? He felt something cold against his chest, and another shudder shook his large frame. This time, he jolted fully awake.

Another shudder overtook him. Ivan suddenly realized that is was not he who was shuddering. It was the small, ice-cold figure huddled against his chest.

Ivan shot nearly upright and stared in horror at Yao, who was shaking violently and had turned purple. His eyes were still closed, but he was mumbling in some strange language that sounded faintly Chinese, but gave Ivan an uncomfortable feeling. As he watched, Yao's arms flailed; his left hand rose to his throat, and started to squeeze…

Ivan lunged for the hand and pried the fingers away, forcing Yao's arms to the mattress. Still, Yao fought, still fully asleep, still wracked with spasms.

Ivan was scared now. Yao was completely out of control, and showed no signs of waking up. In desperation, Ivan began to yell for help. He doubted there were any nurses around, but Ivan couldn't hold Yao forever.

Suddenly, Yao jerked his head up and rammed it back against the bedpost. There was a loud crack, and the bedpost broke off, sending the two tumbling off the bed. Still, Ivan kept Yao pinned down; for such a small, frail man, Yao was putting up quite a fight. Ivan stopped yelling at the top of his lungs and instead focused his attention on his roommate.

"Yao!" he cried. "Yao, listen to me! You have to wake up! Stop, you're going to hurt yourself!" But Yao wasn't responding. If anything, he was getting worse.

But no one came. Ivan struggled to keep Yao from injuring himself, but eventually he grew tired; he was sweating with exertion. Just as it felt as if Ivan could no longer fight, he felt hands grabbing at his clothes, pulling him off his roommate. He struggled weakly until he saw the security guards and nurses swarming Yao, strapping him onto a gurney. Yao began screaming in the strange language, but the nurses wheeled him away.

Exhausted, Ivan slumped against the nearest security guard's leg, despite a half-hearted protest. His eyelids drooped, and despite his best efforts and the guards biting inquiries, Ivan fell asleep.

**~Elsewhere~**

From down the hall, Vash could hear the screams and pleas for help. He was slightly irritated that the other patients were making such a racket, but at the same time he was too busy wallowing in self-pity. Dr. Daniels had stopped asking for Vash, leading Vash to believe that the psychiatrist had given up on him; Lili hadn't made any attempts to get in contact with him; and Vash had almost gotten in a fight with that crazy British man who believed in fairies.

And now this.

Mildly curious, he got out of bed and watched out his window/door as what seemed like five nurses and eight security guards rushed by, pushing a gurney that held a hysterical Chinese man. Even for a mental hospital, this was a rare occurrence.

But when the procession had passed, Vash got bored and went back to bed. At least someone in this hellhole had it worse than he did.

**~Saturday~**

The sun was shining on the grassy area behind the main complex of the mental hospital. It was perfect weather for a picnic lunch. But Ivan was having a hard time enjoying himself.

After Yao had been removed from the room, Ivan had been unable to sleep. He waited, not for Yao to return, but for someone to come and tell him that his roommate was fine. But it never happened, and eventually exhaustion overcame apprehension enough to simply leave Ivan with horrible nightmares, and even during his waking moments, the screams haunted his mind.

_Is this how Yekatarina felt?_ Ivan wondered, picking at his cabbage pie.

Across the yard from Ivan, Alfred Jones was digging into his tray of food: chicken skewers, edamame, and a small helping of apple pie as a treat. Nearby, Matthew and the Cuban were talking about something and eating ice cream. Alfred had initially eyed the ice cream with envy, contemplating whether threatening hints were unheroic (and deciding they were); now he savored every bite of the homemade pie.

A tap on the shoulder caused Alfred to jump, resulting in a near-choking experience as Alfred inhaled an edamame. Thumped hard on the back, the bean flew out of his throat and over the heads of at least a dozen other patients before being lost in the green of the grass.

"Sorry about that, Alfred." Dr. Daniels lowered himself to the ground beside Alfred. "Didn't mean to startle you like that. How do you like the meal?"

Unwilling to cease chewing, Alfred gave the psychiatrist the thumbs-up.

"That's good." The doctor allowed Alfred to finish eating before continuing. "Alfred, when you…talked with Lien the other day, did she say anything…unusual?"

Alfred frowned. "Unusual? How so?"

"Well, not unusual in a 'makes-no-sense' way. More like…well, we're trying to understand what drove Lien to such extremes. Most women her age have a natural maternal instinct; it seems Lien is severely lacking in that respect, and it endangers both herself and the baby. I'm beginning to think we may have wrongly diagnosed her. Did she say anything that may hint at a cause for her condition?"

For a second, Alfred contemplated telling the doctor what Lien had said about the baby. The way she had described it, it was almost like Lien was afraid of the baby itself…but Alfred, being a boy, wasn't sure if it was typical of women to think like that or not. Consequently, he simply shook his head in response to Dr. Daniels' question.

Dr. Daniels looked downtrodden. "Oh, well. Perhaps we just need to work harder. Thank you, Alfred. Why don't you mingle with some of the patients? Make some new friends; it would do you good."

With a clap on the back, Dr. Daniels left Alfred and walked through the crowd of people to join Ivan.

"Hello, Ivan. I'm glad to see you came to the picnic. I know last night was traumatizing for you."

Ivan nodded. He looked up at Dr. Daniels with an imploring gaze, begging for information on Yao's condition.

Dr. Daniels gave in. "He's not well. He exerted a lot of energy in that mysterious fit. We've got him in the intensive care unit. If all goes well, he should make an almost full recovery."

Ivan's eyes widened. "Almost?"

"He may have some brain damage. At the moment it's too early to tell, though. As strange as it sounds, I'm beginning to think you may need to find a way to ensure that Yao stays awake; I worry that the fit was caused by a strange reaction to sleep."

"But he needs sleep!"

"Yes, but in this case we can't allow it. To be honest, Ivan, I'm not entirely sure what to do about him." Dr. Daniels rubbed the back of his neck. "I can't let him sleep, but he needs sleep desperately. Whichever way I turn, there's a very great chance of Yao dying. It's touch-and-go right now."

Ivan pushed his plate away and stood up. "I'm going to see him."

"I can't let you do that, Ivan. He needs to rest."

"I'm going to see him. You can't stop me." Ivan felt irrational anger welling up inside him. A very small part of him recognized this as the beginning of a violent mood swing, but the rest of him didn't care. He glared at the doctor, warning him to back down, and stalked off.

The nurses Ivan passed in the hall got out of the way when they heard his stomping footfalls. No one tried to stop him as he entered the intensive care unit and checked the nametags for Yao. It was only when he found the door that a couple of security guards apprehended him.

"Son, you shouldn't be here."

"Go away."

The other guard grabbed his shoulder. "Come on, let's go back to your room."

"Go AWAY!"

Ivan tore the man's hand off and shoved him across the hall and smashing into the wall. The other guard leapt at Ivan, grabbing his hair, but Ivan punched the man's gut. He guard grabbed Ivan's arm as it turned the knob on the door, sending them both stumbling into the room. Ivan roared in frustration and threw the man to the floor, breathing heavily.

"Ivan?"

The Russian turned. Yao's voice was weaker than ever, and his skin almost inhumanly pale, but it was an improvement over last night's purple. His eyes were half-lidded, but fearful.

"It's okay," Ivan said, coming to Yao's bedside and kneeling down, his mood improved by tenfold.

"What was…?" Yao's gaze flickered to the groaning security guard, who was now standing up shakily.

Ivan felt shame, but forced himself to keep smiling. "I am sorry you had to see that. I don't always have control of my mood." Yao's eyes widened as he realized what was meant. "But I am fine now."

"Why aren't you at the picnic?"

"I was, but I was worried about you. How are you feeling?"

"Mm, tired. Sometimes I feel like I could just sleep forever." Yao's eyes began to drift shut.

Ivan grabbed Yao's wrist, startling the smaller man awake. "No! You can't go back to sleep! It'll happen again!"

Yao blinked. "But I'm tired, and it can't really be that bad…"

"Do you remember what happened, Yao?"

Yao thought for a minute. "I think there were blinding lights, and something sharp, and I remember there being a lot of nurses and guards, but…not really."

Ivan stood up. "I saw it. You were freezing, purple, shaking uncontrollably. You started choking yourself, slamming your head against the headboard, trying to hurt yourself. You were babbling, and screaming. It was awful, Yao. I don't want to see that again."

Yao's eyes had been getting wider with each sentence, until they seemed too big for his face. "I don't remember any of that…"

And then the smaller man's eyes drooped shut, and he began to snore lightly.

Ivan's heart froze in fear. "Nurses! Help!"

Immediately, two nurses and a doctor rushed into the room and swarmed around their patient, while the injured security guard placed a hand firmly on Ivan's shoulder and steered him out the door.

"We're going to have to have a talk with Dr. Daniels about this behavior, young man. Now let's go back to your room."

A high-pitched scream came from the room they had just left. Ivan froze, his posture becoming rigid. The security guard backed off.

"Now, son…"

Ivan didn't hear him; he was already barreling down the hall, bursting through the door. The nurses were struggling to restrain the Chinese man, and failing miserably. Ivan pushed them out of the way and grabbed Yao's wrists, forcing them down onto the mattress beside him.

"Stop this!" he yelled. "Yao, please!" The nurses had taken off to get help, and the doctor was scribbling notes in the corner. "Wake up, Yao, please!"

It was only a matter of minutes, but to Ivan it seemed like hours as he waited for help to come. He didn't know what to do other than restrain his roommate, but it pained him to see a friend like this. He kept trying to talk to Yao, eventually slipping into Russian, begging him to stop, but it was no use.

When help finally came, Ivan was in tears of frustration. Nothing he did was helping in the long run, and he was fighting a mood swing. If he snapped now, someone, possibly Yao, could get gravely hurt.

He forced himself to follow his escort back to his room, stayed calm while the door was locked, sat on his bed for a while in silence. Finally, he snapped, and picked up the broken headboard and bashed it against the wall, shattering it into millions of tiny wood scraps, cutting his face in the process. He aimed his fists at the wall and punched until his knuckles were numb. Then he slumped against the wall, breathing hard. Ivan hated when he lost his temper, but he could never stop it. This was perhaps the first time that he had been able to keep himself in check long enough to reach isolation.

His fists clenched, and he spun around and stood up, ready to pace the room. He stopped when he saw a small, scared, blond face staring at him from across the hall.

It was a small man, another patient, wandering the halls. It was like he wanted to go to the picnic, but yet didn't. The green eyes shone with fear.

"Hello," Ivan mouthed. The man shot off down the hallway.

**~Elsewhere~**

Back in his room, Feliks crouched in the corner, slowing his breathing. The last thing he had expected, with the picnic in full swing, was to come across another patient. It didn't matter that the scary man had been behind a wall of glass; he had still been near Feliks.

The Polish man closed his eyes. He knew this fear of people, this sociophobia, was unnatural. He should be able to get along with people, like he did with Toris. But the idea of other humans near him filled him with such dread…

**Okay if any of you think you can handle a shitload of SuFin feels, I'm going to recommend "Outcast" by Angelsaurus. Then you can PM me and we can share our feels about it. Because that is the only way to get over it. But it is a beautiful piece of work. Just don't bug her for more chapters, mmkay?**

**Also I apologize for the inserted "Elsewhere". It's the only divider that has a chance of showing up on . It keeps removing my other ones.**


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